vaccination | TLV

He's not sure he agrees with that, but that's neither here nor there. Making the comparison with her means she's assuming she didn't, either. "What would you have chosen?"

If she says she'd choose to die... which he's starting to think she might... he's gonna have a problem. (Why does he have so many semi-suicidal friends?)

"The greater good. If my life could save thousands, it's a pretty easy choice to make."

But. She'd never sacrifice JJ, or Dina, or Joel for that same cause. She'd never even let them consider such a thing.

She's allowed to be a hypocrite.

"Look, I know it's a shitty answer, but if you saw how fucked up my world is, you'd at least think about it."

Yeah, he... does not like that. He's frowning, and the arm is recalibrating under his sleeve. It takes him a minute of trying to make himself speak, before he says tightly: "I don't want you to die. I don't care how fucked up your world is."

That makes Ellie smile a little. Always good to hear him say things he wants, his own thoughts, even if Ellie's really fucking conflicted about the whole thing and likely will be for the rest of her life.

"The good news is that I'm pretty good at staying alive, and with the surgeon dead, it's not happening, so."

And her deal is for Joel, not a cure, and not the hands that might be able to make one after cutting into her brain.

He considers this, then nods. "Good. I had to tell Godric not to kill himself, too. Maybe even Rogers. I don't want to have to tell you that, too." That's two wants in a row, but this one is easier to say than the last one.

"I thought I'm supposed to be the one telling you stuff."

The sentiment isn't lost on her, though. It's nice that people prefer her alive than dead--that chat with Marlene didn't leave her feeling better about herself. For Marlene, there was still hope for some sort of cure.

He shrugs, and finally puts his fingers on the piano keys, just the right hand, making a single stepped triad, a pretty little harmony. "I guess I'm doing the inmate thing wrong, then." He actually doesn't sound serious. He sounds ultra-bland, which is a cue Ellie will recognize by now as his attempt at humor.

She does, and it makes her huff out a breath of air as she lowers her legs and leans down to get her guitar.

"Smartass," she mutters, but there's nothing cruel about it. "So, now that we've established this place is out to fuck with us, what do you want me to do?"

He kind of likes being called a smartass. Sass is fun. Only with people who are edging into "safe", but still. "Pick a song. A good song. I want to try and play it on the piano." Which means hearing her play it very, very slowly so he can match guitar note to piano key.

"I only know good songs."

He's not the only smartass. Ellie settles the guitar on her leg. "I'll play it first, then go way slower, okay? And I'll spare you the singing."

True Faith is a classic, but damn sometimes those lyrics hit deep. She's got it memorized at least, even if her guitar playing hasn't seen much of the light of day here, so it comes easily.

It also seems like something that would translate well to piano. There's more plucking than strumming, not very many chords to work out, just lots of notes in sequence to work out, with some slight dual-note harmonizing. B listens close, and thinks he can maybe even do it.

He's so busy focusing on the notes he couldn't even really tell you if it was a nice song or not. What he can say is, "You're good." Not a single mis-plucked note, as far as he can tell.

That earns him a brief grin.

"Thanks. I do accept ass kissing at all times, you know."

"I'll remember that." He's not actually sure if he knows how to do that, unless it's just compliments when deserved? But he'll remember. More importantly, though: "That shouldn't be too hard to turn into a piano song. Just need to put the notes to the right keys. Can you play it again? In pieces?"

If there's anything Ellie can say she's good at, it's surviving and guitar.

"Yeah, sure," she says, and slowly plays the first few notes for him.

"Do you think you played music before?"

Before the whole stasis sleep stuff.

"No." He finds the first note, then works out the next two based on how close they are in sound. Three steps up-- no, three and a half-- repeat, repeat, then a descending scale for two more notes. "I have. Muscle memory. Skills remain when context does not. Remembered sewing." And HYDRA never would have made him repair his own gear. That would require being out of the ice for anything other than missions. "So I'd know how to play if I ever did it before."

"Huh. Cool," Ellie says, watching him play. "Guess you fixed your own clothes before, then."

He repeats the sequence, to make sure it sounds right. "With a needle and thread in the right color. Yes, I could. Though I can't knit. I remember that, too." He considers a moment, then asks, "Are needles allowed for inmates? Or are they too sharp, like weapons?"

"If you can have utensils, you should be able to have a needle." Anything is a weapon if you try hard enough, is Ellie's motto. Maybe not the Admiral's.

Ellie gives him a few more notes.

"Okay." He picks out those notes, one at a time, taking a moment and a couple tries for the last. "Then. I might need one. And thread." He hesitates, uncertain. Asking is hard, in general, but now he's unsure about the chain of command. "You're not my warden now. Should I ask Misty?"

"Yeah, just to be sure. I don't see why she wouldn't let you have it if it's allowed," Ellie tells him. "She seems nice."

She does seem nice. In a weirdly authoritative way. "Told me. No more maintenance. Then made me a whole store in the Enclosure to destroy when I cried about it."

He slowly but neatly puts the two sets of notes together, playing through the whole phrase.

"You were upset about no more maintenance?"

She pauses on going on with the tune. That's news to her.

"No. Yes. I don't know." There'd been a lot of things he felt in that moment, and it's hard to pick them apart. He frowns at the keys a little, and runs through the musical phrase he has again, still slow and careful, like he's focusing on that to keep from getting upset, now. "Sometimes tears just happen. And I don't really know why. It's like the punching thing. Except the only thing it hurts is my face."

When he puts it like that, he'd rather cry than punch things. Now if only he could nudge his stupid emotional reactions that way all the time.

"That's depressingly relatable," Ellie mutters, a thought she'd usually keep to herself, but she's been open already with him. He knows she's not a ball of sunshine.

"But crying is good, sometimes. Gotta let that shit out even if you don't know why."

He looks at her sidelong. Relatable? Him? Sounds fake. But he has to ask: "You don't always know why you cry, either?"

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